


Tiptoe

by Captain_Loki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Underage Sex, baked!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is toasted and kind of sick of waiting for Derek to figure out he knows what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiptoe

**Author's Note:**

> warning for slight dubcon considering it features underaged stoned stiles and a sober Derek. Also warning for PORN LOTS OF PORN.

It only takes for Stiles to raise his fist to the charred door before Derek is pulling it open with a swoosh. Stiles is glad he opted against the obligatory stalling pace round the dilapidated front porch.

“Stiles?” It’s not a question so much as it is a questioning statement, and Stiles opens his mouth like he’s going to explain, but he doesn’t have a good one really. “I—“ Derek’s expression furrows for a fraction of a second as he looks Stiles up and down. Puzzlement is really not the expression he’s trying to rouse and he clears his throat.

“Are you high?” Stiles is rather surprised by just how surprised Derek seems to be by this news.

“Please don’t tell me to go home or—“ Stiles voice cracks, and he starts to feel his ramble getting revved up, and it’s always so much worse when he’s stoned, and things are moving so infinitely slow. “—or be all Alpha Prude with your “making sure I’m really ready” bullshit.” And Stiles actually uses air quotes and doesn’t even falter when Derek looks like he wants to snap them off.

“Cos this is so much worse than when I’m sober…” Stiles says nodding, “I don’t think you understand how unbelievably horny I am.” Derek makes a choked noise somewhere in the back of his throat and Stiles can’t help the goofy smirk that spreads slowly up his face.

“Stiles,” Derek hisses, and neither of them are sure if it’s a warning or a plea.

“And it’s just…I’ve never had anyone when I’m like this before…or well I guess neither have I sober before really,” Stiles splutters. He gestures with his hands even more than usual. His fingers blur in front of his own eyes. “But this seemed way more tragic not to take advantage.”

“Stiles,” Derek tries again, and it’s softer this time, there’s no bite and the plea is written plain and clear in it.

“I can’t go home like this,” Stiles reasons. “And Scott kicked me out cos the overpowering scent of my arousal was starting to turn him on.” He means it to sound like a joke, even if it was the truth, but it comes out more desperate and uneven.

“Fuck,” Derek stutters, and Stiles watches his hazel eyes traveling down to where Stile’s is rock hard in his jeans. Stiles opens his mouth, another quip half forming in his head but Derek doesn’t give him a chance, which is just as well.

When his brain kicks in gear Stiles darts forward to meet Derek halfway over the threshold of his house. He sort of falls against Derek with a thunk, his arms moving to drape across his broad shoulders. His fingers scrabble at Derek’s shoulder blades as Derek’s own broad hands splay over Stiles’ waist beneath his unzipped hoodie.

Derek’s mouth closes over his. The strength of the kiss betrays his rank. It could be alarming, but Stiles can feel the gentle press of Derek’s fingertips gliding across his jaw and the curve of his neck. Stiles tightens his grip as Derek pulls him closer, their chests pressed tight together, and Stiles can feel Derek’s heart thumping in his chest.

“Ah,” Stiles hisses and pulls away, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks, concerned. When he feels Derek start to pull away Stiles makes a whimpering sound involuntarily and fists his hands in the back of Derek’s t-shirt.

“Don’t you dare,” Stiles grits out. “I’m just really baked.” The world feels small and suddenly 2D like Stiles is trapped in an old videogame.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Derek sighs, resting his head against Stiles’.

“No, it’s a fantastic idea, in fact.” Stiles tries to reassure him. “Please,” his voice falters soft and sincere. “I just want you Derek.”

Stiles’ heart beat feels impossibly slow where it reverberates inside Derek. He swallows heavily and tries to catch his breath. Stiles avoids his gaze and Derek can see the flush of his cheeks and the tip of his ears. Derek kisses him again, because he doesn’t know what to say.

It takes too long to get them inside, to get Stiles on his back beneath him, his shirt crumpled beneath his head. His head is tilted back as Derek sucks bruises into his neck and collar bone. One of Stiles hands grasps at his hair, the other scratches at the floor in desperation.

Derek pulls away to crawl up Stiles’ prone body until he’s kissing him again. Their tongues grapple almost languidly, slow hard thrusts past each other’s swollen red lips. Stiles lets out a quiet groan every time Derek nips his lower lip between his teeth.

Derek shifts, he rests his weight on his forearms on either side of Stiles’ head, their chests barely brushing. Stile’s legs fall open on either side of Derek’s hips, and he wiggles and squirms until his ass is pressed firmly against Derek’s crotch. Derek hisses low and Stiles lets out a shaky breath at the feel of Derek’s erection pressing against him.

Derek pulls away and rests back on his haunches. His hands land on the fly of Stiles’ jeans. He moves slowly, his fingers stuttering over the zip and the button. Stiles has ample time to protest but he just watches with fascination. Derek grips the waistband of both pants and pulls them down hard, Stiles hips rise, his ass smacking against the floor as Derek pulls his clothes all the way off.

Too much time has passed and he hasn’t moved yet. Stiles is flushing harder now in the moonlight falling in through the open window.

Stiles Stilinksi is naked on the floor of his half demolished house, his cock hard and red, twitching against his stomach.

It curves a bit to the left, Derek notes.

“Is it—“ Derek silences the unasked question by bending forward and taking Stiles into his mouth. “Oh shit.” Stiles’ whole body is twitching, his legs pressing against every inch of Derek they can, his hands scrabbling at the dusty hardwood.

Derek slicks up Stiles’ shaft with spit, and tonges the head of his cock, before swallowing him down.

“Uh, ah,” Stiles’ moans are stuttered and half formed, like the syllables of an aborted sentence. Suddenly Stiles is pushing at his shoulder, and gripping his hair. “Stop, Derek.” Derek pulls off and looks up, concerned.

“Please,” he begs, “I don’t want to come yet.” Derek can’t do more than just nod, but Stiles has his eyes closed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek breathes. His dick is aching where it presses against the front of his jeans.

“I want you, take your clothes off,” Stiles moans, it’s a polite command, one Derek plans on obeying. He makes quick work of his t-shirt and he lets out a relieved groan when he finally yanks his bottoms down. Stiles is sitting up now, and he gives Derek a smirk before he’s shifting forward and taking Derek into his mouth.

Derek can feel Stiles’ pulse quicken, can sense his nerves in the slack grip around his dick, but he makes up for this in the way Derek slides down his throat. Stiles looks up at him as his head bobs in his lap. But then he pulls off suddenly, wiping away the spit on his lips with the back of his hand. He’s giving Derek a look Derek thinks is supposed to be seductive but he overshoots it a bit. Derek’s mouth twitches.

Before he can do anything though Stiles is turning, dropping his upper body against the hardwood.

“I want you to take me.”

Derek wraps a hand hard around the base of his cock, the warning of an orgasm building. The rush passes, his mouth fallen open slightly.

“Isn’t this what wolves do? Present or something?” Stiles questions, rubbing his head across his arms as he turns to glance back at Derek. He’s red all the way down the curve of his spine.

“How potent is that weed?” Derek asks. Stiles grins lazily his hips swaying once. Derek stutters a breath and darts forward, a hand gripping Stiles’ right cheek as he spreads him open. He licks a stripe up stiles’ sac to his hole.

“Whoa holy fuck!” Stiles voice is loud and sharp in the quiet room. “I did not expect…that to feel…like that,” he groans, tone of pleasant surprise as Derek eats his ass out; hard thrusts of his tongue in and around Stiles’ hole, up and down his perineum.

“Have you ever—“Derek tries to ask, to be the actual sober responsible one here. “You know had anything?”

“I’ve experimented…with things…and stuff…” Stiles offers, it’s only slightly awkward with his naked ass in the air, Derek’s spit drying at his hole.

“Okay,” Derek nods, uncertainly.

“Fuck please Derek,” Stiles pleads. “Don’t get all saintly on me, jesus, you’re an Alpha I’m not even an Omega just please hang up your damage and fuck me please,” Stiles grits out, dropping his forehead against the floor, his hips moving, like they’re searching him out. Derek’s cock leaks against Stiles’ thigh.

“Alright,” Derek sighs, coating a finger in spit and pressing at Stiles’ entrance. Stiles groans at the feel, sighing when he starts to finger him open. After a minute scissoring two fingers in and out of him, Derek pulls away. He grips Stiles hips but shakes his head.

“Not like this,” he says, and he flips Stiles easily onto his back, fitting them together. Derek leans over him, scrabbling at the box beside them and closing his fingers around the condom and lube. He ignores Stiles’ smug smirk and preps himself.

Derek is leaning over him, arms supporting him on either side of Stiles’ head. His hands come up to grip his shoulders. Stiles’ stomach contracts as Derek settles against him, his hips forcing Stiles’ legs further apart. The floor is hard against his back.

“You okay?” Derek whispers between them. Stiles nods and lets his eyes shut as Derek kisses him again, softly. Stiles can feel the head of Derek’s cock against his hole and he breathes out a nervous sigh as he feels Derek enter, slowly.

It’s a stretch and burn as Derek moves over him, in him. He smells like sweat and musk where Stiles has his head buried in his neck, holding on like he’s a life raft.

“Tell me, if it’s too much,” Derek says, voice soft and sincere and Stiles nods, mouth falling open.

“Move, please?” Stiles asks after a pause. Derek obliges, sliding out slowly before thrusting back in. Stiles gasps and Derek pauses for a fraction, but Stiles doesn’t say anything, just sighs heavily. He moves again, stomach rolling over Stiles’ where they’re pressed together, his cock sliding in and out on slow gentle thrusts.

Stiles face is inscrutable and Derek is afraid he’s at best uncomfortable and at worst in pain. Then Derek shifts slightly and Stiles’ eyes shoot open, pupils blown mouth open on a low and pleasured groan. Derek tries to keep that rhythm. His whole body presses against Stiles, like he’s trying to get closer but can’t.

He kisses Stiles then, and when he pulls back Stiles has this smile on his face like he doesn’t know it’s there, like he can’t help it. Something warm spikes low in Derek’s stomach he doesn’t think has to do with arousal and he hisses out a stuttered, “Fuck, Stiles,” at it.

“Oh my God,” Stiles groans, force of Derek’s hips sending him back and forth across the floor, “I don’t want this to end, ever,” he moans out. Derek smirks.

“But the end is the best part,” Derek all but growls in his ear. Stiles moans Derek’s name drawn out and needy. Derek smirks satisfactorily. He thrusts hard and Stiles chokes on a groan and laughs, head tilted back and he giggles.

Derek can’t help the huff that escapes his own unwilling lips and he has to duck his head into the crook of Stile’s shoulder as he laughs.

Stiles desperate giggle turns into a drawn out moan as Derek drags his dick slowly out of him and slams back in. Derek can feel his own orgasm impending and he quickens his pace pressing Stiles into the floor as he moves in rapid hard shallow thrusts.

Stiles is keening desperately, his short nails scrabbling at Derek’s shoulder and back, his whole body arching off the floor, his toes curling and knees tightening their grip on Derek’s waist.

“Fuck, Derek,” he hisses, eyes closing. “I ca-can’t,” he manages, pleas wrenched with every piston of Derek’s hips.

“Hey,” Derek soothes, slowing his pace, “it’s okay,” he tells him, sliding a palm beneath Stiles’ head and cradling. “C’mon, come for me Stiles,” Derek commands. Stiles shakes his head.

“This is way too fucking intense with an actual other person,” he grits out. Derek laughs.

“I’m going to come,” Stiles tells him, and Derek moans and captures his lips in another bruising kiss. He pulls back in time to see Stile’s face as he comes apart, his cock spurting hot over both their stomachs and chests. Stiles comes with Derek’s name on his lips, and skin beneath his fingertips. It only takes another minute for Derek to come. He stills and pulls Stiles to him, claws extending just slightly, not enough to cut, but enough to leave marks against Stiles’ pale skin.

Later they lie tangled around each other, Derek draped over Stiles when he feels goosebumps breaking out over his cooling skin. Stiles sighs contentedly cocooned against his chest, nosing at the skin of his neck just below his ear.

It’s quiet for a long stretch of time, their breathing evening out, heart rates slowing to normal, and Derek’s nearly asleep when Stile’s body shakes. Derek has a moment of sheer panic when he thinks Stiles is actually sobbing, but he realizes the teen is trying very hard and failing not to giggle.

“What?” Derek asks.

“Our penises are touching.”

“Go to sleep Stiles.


End file.
